On the following morning Nesúh Páshá waited on him to congratulate him on his appointment, and spoke to him in as consolatary and soothing a manner as he was able. “Let us,” said he, “go together: let us render all the services we can for the welfare of our country: God willing, you will find in Asia so many things to comfort and delight you as will cause you to forget your northern campaigns.” Nesúh, by this mode of address, succeeded in bringing the mind of the afflicted grand vezír to some degree of peace and tranquillity.
In the council above alluded to, Dervísh Páshá preferred several accusations against the grand vezír, but which he, the grand vezír, rebutted by giving a circumstantial relation of all the services in which he had been engaged, and concluded by saying he had some reason to fear that the negociations with Austria might still prove abortive—“and thus,” said he, weeping, “our last twelve years of war will end in nothing.” He again requested the emperor to permit him to proceed to the frontiers of Hungary and conclude the peace, the preliminaries of which had been entered into during his own active service in the north. Nesúh, he said, was the emperor’s son-in-law, was every way competent for accomplishing the emperor’s wishes in the east, and therefore earnestly besought the grand Sultán to stand by his first appointment. All, however, was in vain. The emperor remained inflexible, and forced Lálá Mohammed Páshá, whether he would or not, to erect his tent at Scutari. In consequence of these circumstances, so repugnant to the mind of the grand vezír, as well as others which carried along with them their vexations, his health became very much impaired, and yet notwithstanding, he was forced that very week, by repeated orders, to repair to Scutari. It so happened, in the providence of God, however, that whilst he was presiding in his own diván he was struck by a paralytic stroke. His ághás carried him to his tent, and immediately his physicians were called in to administer what aid they were able. An account of this circumstance reached the metropolis, when the wicked Dervísh Páshá had the audacity to represent to his majesty that the grand vezír’s disease was wholly feigned; and instigated him to send a violent and threatening letter to Lálá Mohammed Páshá, the very next day, accusing him of feigning himself unwell, and ordering him, in the most peremptory manner, to begin his march without delay.
The afflicted Lálá Mohammed Páshá caused a humble petition to be written out and laid before his majesty; in which he stated that he required above all things, if his majesty entertained any doubts as to the ill state of his health, that he would send any one of his most confidential servants to see him, and report accordingly. It was utterly impossible for him, in his weak state of health, he said, to leave Scutari unless he was carried in a couch. The emperor was induced by this to send the ághá of the palace to the prime minister, who, when he returned, informed his majesty that the minister was so very weak as to be under the necessity of keeping his bed; in short, that he was seriously and dangerously ill. When his majesty received this report of his minister’s state of health he ceased pressing him any farther.
When the official messenger above referred to first waited on the prime minister, he, the minister, became so much affected that he could not restrain his tears. “Are my services,” said he, in the bitterness of his spirit, “are my services to my country so little thought of that doubts of my veracity should be entertained? Kiss the border of my emperor’s robe when you return, and tell him the weak state in which I am. When I die I leave behind me six orphans, and I hope God will reward the emperor for whatever kindness and favour he may show to them.” The officer, on hearing the grand vezír express himself thus, and having had besides the evidence of his senses to convince him of the dangerous state of his health, he, too, was so overcome with sorrow that he returned to his master, the grand Sultán, and declared to him, weeping, that the worth of this minister was unknown, and therefore not appreciated. “Why is it,” continued the ághá of the palace, “that your majesty has hearkened to the calumny of his enemies? The consequence is, you see, that he is likely to be prematurely cut off.” The answer to all this was, that if he died another would be found to fill his place.
On the third day of this grand vezír’s illness—an illness, there is every reason to believe, wholly occasioned by the treatment of the emperor—his troubles terminated with his life: he gave up the ghost. The rest of the vezírs, the great men of the state, and ulemá, assembled together and attended his remains to the temple of Sultán Mohammed Ghází, where the funeral service was performed; and he was afterwards interred in his own burial ground in the neighbourhood of Abí-eyúb. Among the procession which accompanied the bier of Lálá Mohammed Páshá to the place of interment, was Dervísh Páshá, the lord high admiral of the Turkish fleet, the bitter and relentless enemy of the deceased, but who had his eye on the premiership. He returned to his own house, joyfully anticipating that the seals of office would be conferred on himself. This was what he wished and what he strived for, but at the expense of every honest virtue and upright feeling.
Muftí Siná-allah Effendí relates, that a Portuguese physician who attended Lálá Mohammed Páshá in his illness, had, through the instrumentality of Dervísh Páshá, administered to him, in the form of medicine, what proved mortal to the patient.
When the testament of the late grand vezír was presented to the emperor, he ordered the sums of money that were mentioned in it to be applied to the defraying of the war, but the rest of his effects he permitted to be given to the afflicted children of the deceased. Out of one hundred and fifty thousand ducats and one hundred yúks of dollars, which had belonged to Lálá Mohammed Páshá, and which had been seized at the instigation of Dervísh Páshá for the purpose above explained, only a small portion of his extensive wealth fell to the share of his helpless orphans.
The wicked Dervísh Páshá now arrived at the summit of his wishes. The seals were no sooner conferred on him than he recommended Ja’fer Páshá, the European, who had been three times beglerbeg of Cyprus, to succeed to his vacant situation in the admiralty, and spoke of him as being very skilful in naval affairs. Ja’fer Páshá was, in consequence, appointed lord high admiral of the Ottoman fleet in the room of Dervísh Páshá, who had succeeded to the grand vezírship.
When the new prime minister first took his seat in the diván after his elevation to the premiership, he intimated to the chávush báshí that the members of the diván were not to view him in the light of former ministers, “Whoever puts off a poor man’s case till tomorrow, when it ought to be attended to to-day,” said this fierce minister, “shall have his head cut off: that,” continued he solemnly opening a book, “shall be his fate, and from which he shall in nowise escape.”